


These Wounds Won't Heal

by Sarahbob



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Epic Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Memories, My Immortal - Freeform, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahbob/pseuds/Sarahbob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he turned his head again, Enjolras was no longer there, but Combeferre could still feel the weight on his chest; could still feel the warmth in his heart. And he smiled and cried at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Wounds Won't Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamstr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstr/gifts).



> This fic is build around the song 'My Immortal', by Evanescence. Lyrics belong to them and are written in italics.

**These wounds won't heal**

Combeferre was exhausted. It had been such a hectic day; first at the hospital where everything seemed to be going wrong. He kept dropping one thing after the other and two of his patients died because he had not been able to save them. Later, at the Café, things had not been much better. He was on edge; he didn't have any time for laughter or tears; even though some of the Amis wanted nothing more than to sit down quietly and share their best memories of the leader they once followed.

Combeferre had felt awful ever since he woke up that morning; ever since he went to bed last night. Because today, it had been six months since his best friend; his brother; his soulmate had been forced to trade his earthly life for a heavenly one.

And Combeferre missed him every second of every hour of every day. He missed him so much; it was hard for him to function properly, even though he tried his best. He was sure that the pain he felt in his heart, ever since he walked through life without his other half glued next to him, exceeded the pain all his patients felt combined.

Combeferre knew his best friend was no longer with them; and yet, it felt like he was still present. Sometimes when he walked into their once shared apartment, he thought he could see him sitting at his desk; working furiously at something new to inspire him with. Sometimes, he could still hear his voice; his laughter; the quiet humming and whispering he used to do when he prepared for a speech. Sometimes Combeferre was certain he could feel his friend's hand in his; could feel his body curled against his on their sofa on a cold, rainy day. Yes, sometimes Combeferre was sure Enjolras was still there with him. In his heart, in his mind, in his soul.

* * *

_I'm so tired of being here_

_Suppressed by all my childish fears_

_And if you have to leave_

_I wish that you would just leave_

_Your presence still lingers here_

_And it won't leave me alone_

* * *

And Combeferre was sick of it. Because how could he move on; find closure, if the memory of his brother; his protégé; haunted every step he took? Had he done something wrong? Did he deserve this ever present torture of having his friend around, and yet not having him around at all? Well, of course he did...he had failed. He was supposed to protect his young friend; he was supposed to be there for him; to save him from everything bad in the world. To shield him away from anything that could hurt him. And if he couldn't, then he was supposed to go with Enjolras; to guide him through death like he had through life. He had sworn this to himself ever since the two first met on a cold winterday so many, many years ago. So maybe this was his punishment? But on the other hand - if he was honest - did he really want to let Enjolras go? Did he want him to leave his life forever?

Combeferre did not know. He felt lost and hollow. He was drowning and suffocating and yet he kept floating and he could still breathe. His heart hurt; his mind hurt and all he really wanted was for this day to be over. All he wanted was to wake up and be able to live again. To laugh; to hope; to dream. But how could he live, when the person who was supposed to be there next to him, was gone?

* * *

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much_

_That time cannot erase_

* * *

Later that day, Combeferre reluctantly made his way back home to his apartment. The apartment he had shared for so many years, but was now living in alone. It was cold and dark and Combeferre spent a few minutes just standing in his doorway. Watching; observing; thinking. He was there, Combeferre could feel it, and he couldn't decide if his heart grew warmer or colder at realizing he was still not able to let him go.

He let out a deep, shaky sigh and dropped his keys and bag on the shabby dinner table. His eyes drifted upwards; taking in the large, almost antique, map of France he had given Enjolras on the first Christmas they spent together. All his roommate's stuff were still there except for those few items he had left to the other Amis or the owner of the Musain. But the map was still there; as were his clothes; the old copies of Rousseau; his bed that the two of them had put together; the ribbon he used to pull his hair back; his favorite coffee mug and the many, many, many notes he had made from books and classes, written gracefully, save for the few sketches and little drawings in the corners. Combeferre hadn't had the heart to throw anything out.

He lit a couple of candles and set to heat some water for tea. He hardly ever drank coffee anymore now that his roommate was no longer there to share it with. Then he dropped down on the sofa and tried to read some chapters from his favorite book. But his mind kept drifting. Kept racing back to happier times. To grinning smiles and sparkling eyes. To beaming faces and a heartwarming chuckle. When he closed his eyes, he could see him. He could see him at his fourteen years; gentle, shy and yet so willing to trust him. He could see him at sixteen; proud and rebellious, fighting those teenager moods while at the same time working out his first real plans towards a better future. He could see him at twenty-one; wise and passionate, a true revolutionary.

He had seen his friend grow; had seen him transform and he was so, so proud. He alone knew of the horrors Enjolras had been through and he alone knew about the long road his friend had travelled to fight himself free and become the man he was meant to be. But no matter how much older Enjolras got; no matter how much more independant or single-minded, Combeferre remained his rock. Combeferre was always there to comfort him; to melt the ice that could turn so cold at times; to talk to him whenever he needed to. In Combeferre company, Enjolras allowed himself to pull of that marble mask and be a little brother once more.

* * *

_When you cried_

_I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream_

_I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand_

_through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_all of me_

* * *

He finished his tea and closed his book. It was no more use; he could not concentrate. His vision was swimming with memories of curly blond hair and dimples decorating an innocent and childlike smile. Combeferre felt the corners of his lips turn upwards for a second just before an involuntary sob tore through his throat. And then another one and a third one and before he knew it, he was crying painful tears and making wretched sounds. He cried and cried and he whispered Enjolras' name over and over again. He missed him; missed him so much.

They had been through so much together. They had helped each other through every aspect in life; whether that had been hard or easy. Combeferre was there when Enjolras' father paid a visit and his young friend had felt as if his whole world came crashing down. Combeferre had been there when Enjolras had finally found the courage to visit the grave of his long lost brother. And Enjolras had been there when Combeferre's father fell ill and lost his job. Enjolras had been there when Combeferre's mother died and Combeferre had been afraid to go home for the funeral. They were there for each other. Had been. Always. Until now. Because now Enjolras had gone where Combeferre could not follow.

The tears were still flowing freely from his eyes when Combeferre pushed up from the sofa and dragged himself towards the bedroom. He passed his own bed and, instead, fell down on the one that had been Enjolras'. He curled in on himself and clutched the pillow to his chest. He could've sworn it still had Enjolras' scent and he buried his head in it. By God, how was it possible to miss someone so much? More tears came and he cried himself asleep. A sleep where he still could not escape that angelic face. A sleep where he was still haunted. A sleep that still hurt just as much as his waking hours.

* * *

_You used to captivate me_

_By your resonating light_

_Now I'm bound by the life you left behind_

_Your face it haunts_

_My once pleasant dreams_

_Your voice it chased away_

_All the sanity in me_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_There's just too much_

_That time cannot erase_

* * *

He woke up again no more than two hours later. It was already dark out, yet it was not even close to midnight. He rubbed his eyes; still swollen and red from his crying and he rolled on his back. How many times had he joined Enjolras here after he had woken up from the umpteenth nightmare? How often had they fallen asleep together after reading in each other's company? How often had they laughed here? Cried here?

He could feel it now. He could feel a presence next to him. When he closed his eyes, he could imagine Enjolras intertwining their fingers. He could hear him whisper; he could feel his breath travelling across his cheeks.

"Please?", Combeferre begged, "Please allow me to let you go? Please go away? Please? Please? But please don't leave me. Don't leave me here alone? Let me go, but hold me close. I need you. I need you so much..."

There was no answer. And Combeferre had not expected there to be one. He drew in another deep breath and left the bedroom. He grabbed his coat and ran outside. He ran and ran until his legs started to tremble and his chest was heaving so badly he had to stop. He stopped running and took in his surroundings. A small chuckle left his throat. Of course he'd end up here. Of course he would. This was their favorite spot. They had come here so very often. To look at the stars; to have a playful fight in the snow; to discuss past, present and future. Of course Enjolras would take him here. Combeferre could see him now, even with his eyes still open. He could see him standing just underneath a big tree; a small smile lighting up his face; curls dancing around his head like a halo. He was beckoning him and Combeferre followed.

* * *

_When you cried_

_I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream_

_I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand_

_Through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

* * *

Combeferre followed his best friend as he led him through the gardens; along the fountains; passed the trees and the flowers. He watched how Enjolras grabbed his hand and pulled him down, into the grass. They lay together, on their backs, side by side. Above them the sky was clear and the stars were bright. So bright. As if they had captured all the light that Enjolras once radiated.

Combeferre turned his head to look at his friend. He was there; really there. Was he really there? The heartbroken medical student closed his eyes for a moment and opened then again. Enjolras was still next to him and had now turned his head as well.

"I miss you so, so very much", Combeferre whispered softly and Enjolras smiled. He intertwined their fingers and placed their hands on Combeferre's chest; right above his heart. As if he wanted to emphasize that that would be the place he'd always be. Where he could always live on; warming Combeferre from the inside out. Those were the words spoken by Enjolras' eyes. Then the blond turned his head back to the sky. "Let us watch the stars", he whispered quietly and Combeferre did as he was told.

* * *

_I've tried so hard_

_To tell myself that you're gone_

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along_

* * *

When he turned his head again a few minutes later, Enjolras was no longer there, but Combeferre could still feel the weight on his chest; could still feel the warmth in his heart. And he smiled and cried at the same time.

* * *

_When you cried_

_I'd wipe away all of your tears_

_When you'd scream_

_I'd fight away all of your fears_

_And I held your hand_

_Through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

* * *

**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Hammy, because her art is truly amazing and keeps inspiring me. Combeferre's memories are mostly based on another story of mine called 'The Medical Student and his Protégé', which can be found on fanfiction.net. I'm under the same name there, should you be interested :)


End file.
